Mutation
by ImagineGal
Summary: The long awaited sequel to 'Cycle'...  Ness' and Paula's son has not shown any signs of power as yet.  But that doesn't mean he doesn't have any. CHAPTER 7 UP!
1. Living the Good Life

A/N: EARTHBOUND BE NOT MINE! There; disclaimer's out of the way. First and foremost, I'd like to thank all the EarthBound fans who helped to make "Cycle" my single most successful story on ff.net. Hopefully this tale will be able to live up to it. :-) When I began "Cycle" I didn't quite know where I was going with it, as is the case with this story. Maybe there IS something to be said for improvisation... That being said, I present to you "Mutation", the sequel to "Cycle".  
  
Like it predecessor, it begins with a dream...  
  
*********************************  
  
Chapter One: Living the Good Life  
  
Ness sat with his arms folded, staring at the desk in front of him.  
  
He was in his basement. The basement where he kept all the memories of his travels with Paula, Jeff, and Poo. His sanctuary. And Paula's, too, sometimes. It had almost become like a little private museum- empty jars of Fly Honey, unused Bottle Rockets, a small container of sand from the desert, a ribbon from the head of a Mr. Saturn, even a couple of pebbles Jeff had picked out of his shoe in Brick Road. On the desk also lay the photo album Ness' mother had put together- the very thing that had saved his memory ten years ago- and the Sound Stone.  
  
There was something else there too, now, something that wasn't usually there.  
  
"You don't scare me, you know," Ness heard himself say.  
  
"That's perfectly fine with me," answered the Mani-Mani statue, "You destroyed me once; then when I returned you protected me. It proves the evil part of a person's soul does need to be preserved."  
  
"Don't be silly," Ness said, "I only 'protected' you to stop an even greater evil from getting ahold of you."  
  
"Exactly my point," said the statue, "Unless we recognize the darkness within us, greater shadows may yet overtake us."  
  
Ness shook his head, "Don't you try that cryptic crap on me after all these years," he said, "I'm a grown man now; I've got a wife and a son and I don't need you anymore."  
  
"If you don't need me," said the Mani-Mani statue, "Then why am I here?"  
  
And the statue began to grow.  
  
It was slow at first, then faster and faster- until the statue first broke through the table, spilling the Sound Stone and other precious items to the floor- until it then dominated the room from ceiling to floor, and Ness had leapt off the stool to get away from it, backing against the wall.  
  
Then the statue moved. The faint basement light made its glittering arms glow as they unfolded themselves, grabbed a massive glittering spear from midair, and went straight for Ness' throat.  
  
*  
  
Ness tapped his right index finger at the glass, distracting the fish that swam on the other side.  
  
"PSI Memory Delta," he said quietly, "From the time I started this sentence to the time I finish it, you were soaring majestically through the clouds, completely free of this two-and-a-half-foot by one-foot fishtank."  
  
He brought his finger away. The goldfish glubbed, and looked even more perplexed- if such a thing was possible.  
  
Ness felt he might snigger like some mischievous little school boy, but instead he just grinned- ah, fish. Gotta love messing with their minds.  
  
"Dad! Dad! Daddy!" little Jeffrey's voice called from the puppy zone. He was jumping frantically up and down, pointing at a little brown-spotted white pup, "I want that one, Dad!"  
  
"You want that one, huh?" Ness kneeled down by his son, ruffling his hair, "And who said I was gonna get you a puppy, huh?" He poked Jeffrey in the stomach, right where he knew it tickled the most, "Huh?"  
  
"Mom said you might buy me a puppy for my birthday," Jeffrey said, giggling.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Ness picked Jeffrey up, "Well, your birthday's two months away, slugger. That puppy won't be so small anymore by then."  
  
"I don't care; I want it," Jeffrey said.  
  
"Well, we'll see about that," Ness said as they exited from the pet store, "But first let's worry about gettin' you to baseball practice."  
  
*  
  
"Dad, I'm nervous."  
  
"Don't be."  
  
Ness concentrated on the road in front of him with his eyes while his mind wandered toward other things. His son's first day of baseball- he felt so proud already. They'd stopped by the pet store first because Ness felt it might calm Jeffery's nerves... He always did like seeing the puppies.  
  
Wasn't there something else he was supposed to remember, too? Oh yeah- the extra bats for the team. Were they in the backseat-? Yes; Ness could hear them rattling around back there.  
  
The thought of the bats made him think of something else.  
  
It was the dream he'd had the night before.  
  
The dream didn't faze him anymore- he'd had it once every year, ever since the destruction of Pokey's Earth. After the fifth year he'd started to notice a pattern, but Paula told him there were no hidden meanings in it; it was just his subconscious being tricky. If the Mani-Mani statue could have somehow harmed him from within Magicant, it would have done it a long time ago.  
  
Ness snapped back to reality and noticed he was swerving. Readjusting the vehicle, he put his mind back on the road and continued towards the baseball field.  
  
*  
  
The man standing on the grass just outside of first base had a sweaty look to him, even though the spring air was a comfortable 67 degrees. His moustache- terribly oversized for someone with such a bony face as his- twitched, his fingers- long and spindly- fiddled with themselves behind his back. The only relaxed feeling at all about him was the baseball cap perched upon his head.  
  
But when he saw the dark blue car pull up on the park road, he smiled. The dark-haired man and his son got out, and the father directed his son toward the area where most of the boys on the team were already chatting, playing catch, and getting to know each other.  
  
"Ness," said the moustached man, holding out a bony hand as the dark-haired one approached him.  
  
"Adrian," Ness greeted, and took his hand in a hearty shake, "Good day for baseball," he said.  
  
"Great day," Adrian said clipily. "Listen, Ness- it seems your new co-coach hasn't quite recovered from the flu yet." His moustache bristled. "It seems he won't be making it to the first few practices-"  
  
"Oh, that's fine," Ness said, clapping Adrian on one skinny shoulder, "I can handle it."  
"Well-" Adrian said, "I was just thinking that- you know- as head of the Little League I would be willing to help any way I could-"  
  
"No, really; I can handle it myself," Ness said, "Jesus, Adrian, they're just kids, huh?" Finally prying his hand from Adrian's he made his way towards the area where the boys were playing, "Go home and get some rest. Or stop drinking so much coffee or something," he added under his breath.  
  
*  
  
Some days, Ness could hardly believe it.  
  
At 36 years of age he had already saved the world twice from certain destruction. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Here he was, a celebrated sports columnist published in 15 papers across Eagleland, and every spring, a Little League coach for the Twoson Tigers. He had a wife, Paula, who after several years of college was now a practicing psychologist- and a darned good one too, since she could literally read people's minds. And he had a son, Jeffrey- named after Ness' and Paula's late friend- who had his mother's golden hair and sparkling green eyes, but his father's spunk and love of athletics. For the last ten years, Ness had finally gotten a grip on what most people considered a normal life.  
  
It felt pretty good. 


	2. Discoveries

A/N: By the by, interesting how I began writing this fic just one day before finding out about Mother One, Two, and THREE (THREE THREE THREE THREE THREE) for GBA in Japan. Guess my EB-Sense picked up on something in the air... :-D  
  
Now, on to Part 2.  
  
Chapter Two: Discoveries  
  
The man in the tan suit lifted his right leg up in the air until his two legs formed a straight vertical line. He smugly took off his glasses.  
  
"Drunken boxing, huh?" he asked.  
  
Jackie Chan paused a moment, then flung his hands out in front of him in backwards-looking fists, swerving around like a drunken idiot.  
  
With a clink of keys, Paula entered the room.  
  
"What are you two watching?" she asked admonishingly.  
  
"You can't beat a classic," said Ness, watching Jackie Chan and Tan Suit Man battle it out on-screen.  
  
"He's going to get the wrong ideas from that," Paula said worriedly, referring to Jeffrey as she walked towards the kitchen.  
  
"Nah." Ness ruffled his son's hair, "This kid's gonna be a black belt."  
  
"Right," Paula scoffed, "I'll add that to the list right under Soccer Star and World Series Champion."  
  
"Hey, Jeff," Ness said, ignoring his wife's comment, and with both hands caught the soccer ball his son had been throwing over and over up into the air and catching again- sometimes he felt strange addressing his son by the same nickname his friend had been called, but other times he didn't mind so much, "Which d'you like better, soccer or baseball?"  
  
"I like soccer," Jeffrey said after a bit of thought, "'Cause there's always that guy that goes," he shot both arms up into the air, "GOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLL!"  
  
"Good answer." Ness gave Jeffrey his soccer ball back, and the boy slid off the couch and onto the floor, where he proceeded to kick the ball all around the carpet.  
  
"I was thinking we'd get some chicken for dinner tonight," said Paula as she re-entered the living room, just in time to see Jeffrey kicking his soccer ball very close to the basement door, which was slightly ajar.  
  
"Jeffrey!" she said sternly, switching to light-speed-protective-mother mode as she zipped to close the door and get her son's attention. "Don't kick the ball around here when the basement door's open, okay? You could fall down the stairs."  
  
"Okay," Jeffrey said, and headed out towards the backyard.  
  
Paula sighed as though she'd just averted a terrible disaster. When she looked towards the couch, she saw her husband looking at her bewilderedly. Ignoring his look, she walked briskly back towards the kitchen.  
  
The subject would not come up again for six more hours, after the town had been dark for some time. Paula put on her silky pink nightgown, finished blow-drying her hair, clipped her nails, and exited the bathroom, ready for bed. Ness was already in bed, a notebook propped up on his knees, a pencil in his hand. He was working on notes for next week's column, but as it would soon be revealed, that wasn't really what he was thinking about.  
  
He didn't even look at Paula when she slipped under the covers, but he did ask: "Why don't you ever let Jeffrey go into the basement?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked.  
  
"Every time he even gets close to that door you freak out," Ness said, "Even if it's closed most of the way."  
  
"But I don't want him to get hurt."  
  
Ness finally turned his head and looked at her, seriously.  
  
"He couldn't even have come close to falling down those stairs today," he said.  
  
"He could have got his fingers caught in the door," Paula said.  
  
"I think you're afraid of letting him see what's down there."  
  
Paula sat in silence for a moment. Years of training as a psychologist had taught her that her first patient was herself- she couldn't afford to deny anything.  
  
"You're right," she sighed, with a note of resignment. "I am."  
  
"Why?" Ness asked. He sounded incredulous. When Paula remained silent for a few good seconds, he went on: "I feel like we're lying to him; not letting him know what happened to us. You won't even let me take him to Onett to see the place where the meteorite landed." The spot was now a treasured tourist attraction, even though a great deal of the people who came to visit the site had no clue as to its real significance.  
  
Paula sighed through her nose.  
  
"What do you think you're protecting him from?" Ness added finally, turning back to his notebook.  
  
"I just think he's too young to know about things like that yet," Paula answered at last.  
  
"How do you mean?" Ness asked.  
  
"Not everyone can have an adventure like ours, Ness," Paula said, smiling vaguely at him, "Jeffrey's at that age where he's still very impressionable. If we tell him about what happened, he might start to think that EVERYONE is supposed to go out and fight giant metal men and smelly ghosts in garbage cans at some point in their lives."  
  
"Well, I dunno about the ghosts in garbage cans," Ness said.  
  
"That's just not something he should have to experience. Not for a few more years, anyway." She said this with a final note, settling down into a horizontal position under the covers.  
  
Hoping to end the evening on a high note, Ness made one final bid for a laugh: "Could I at least let him meet Poo? I bet he'd think his name was real funny."  
  
"Good night, Ness."  
  
*  
  
Early afternoon, a few days following. The items in the basement sat in silence and solitude, the dust of passing years growing thicker on the table and shelves. In fact, there was dust everywhere, despite Paula's efforts to keep it as clean and orderly as the rest of the house- dust on the floor, on the stool, in the air... which a thick blade of light sliced through, revealing the curtain of scattered particles that floated constantly through the air.  
  
The blade, however, allowed itself to be interrupted briefly by a shadow, which entered and bounced through it, down the stairs, and rolled onto the floor by the stool.  
  
A soccer ball.  
  
Then the light was interrupted again, by a new shadow. A larger one, which followed the first one, coming down the stairs more cautiously, stopping by the table.  
  
Jeffrey stooped to pick up his soccer ball, coughing a bit of dust out of his throat.  
  
Then he took a small look around.  
  
Upstairs, on the second floor, Ness sat at his computer, typing away frantically for the deadline he had to meet.  
  
In the basement, Jeffrey examined the strange items on the shelves from his vantage point on the floor. Nothing about it scared him, really- he was only curious. Mom had always been worried about his falling down the stairs, or getting his finger caught in the door, or bumping his head, or getting locked in. She'd never said, point blank, "Jeffrey, don't go in the basement." So now he was here, without having fallen down the stairs, his fingers and head intact, and the door remained quite comfortably open. Jeffrey put down his ball and, with only a little difficulty, managed to get up onto the stool, where he could see the items on the table much easier.  
  
An interesting collection- small, empty jars, a pink ribbon, what looked like some sort of firecrackers- Jeffrey would have picked them up if he'd already been indoctrinated with the idea that firecrackers were dangerous.  
  
So instead, he opted for something much more harmless- the small, round rock that lay directly in the center of the table.  
  
Upstairs by his computer a few moments later, Ness heard a faint THUMP. He ignored it without a second thought, and kept on writing.  
  
A/N: "The Legend of Drunken Master" be not mine either... though it IS a classic, however silly it may be. :-D Next Chapter: Will Jeff get caught in the basement? What's he doing with the Sound Stone? Will Ness ever stop being such an airhead? ^.^ Probably not. Also next chapter, a new character will appear... 


	3. Nightmare

A/N: At last! I won't labor you with the details of why this took so long... :-p But I WILL promise that I will never again take this long to post a chapter. ^_^;;;  
  
Now, on with the story. :-)  


  
Chapter Three: Nightmare  
  


Jeffrey lamented. His head hurt.  
  
Slowly he sat up. As he did, a warm breeze ruffled the air and beckoned the long grass- the same golden color of his hair- to wave and sway. The sky above- the same pale blue-green as his eyes- hung above like a canopy, without a cloud.  
  
Jeffrey wondered if he was dreaming. He pinched his arm.  
  
he exclaimed again, slapping his hand over the self-inflicted pain.  
  
He stood up.  
  
The flat land stretched out for about fifty feet in front of him after which it fell off into a curtain of white light. The precipice, as far away as it was, made Jeffrey apprehensive, and he backed up away from it.  
  
Right into a pole.  
  
Jeffrey yelped, expecting for some reason he couldn't explain to go plummeting off the edge. But when he found he was still standing, he turned around.  
  
The sign read WELCOME TO KAMIANT.  
  
But it was the scene beyond the sign that caught the young boy's attention.  
  
Jeffrey's eyes bulged with excitement and he took off, running around the sign through the grass to where a towering ferris wheel rose before him. Booths of games stood in an inviting line off to the left, and at the end of the row stood a low, squat- and very out of place- brown building.  
  
Perhaps the strangest thing about the carnival was that there seemed to be no one around. The grass had never even been disturbed.  
  
Hello there, Jeffrey.  
  
The voice belonged to a large, friendly-looking man in striped pants and a red coat, who'd stepped out from behind the ferris wheel, holding a bunch of elephant-shaped balloons.  
  
We've been waiting for you.  
  


*  
  


Picky Minch removed his half-moon reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. They felt exceedingly bleary after hour after hour of work.  
  
Need sleep, he muttered, and laid his head down on the desk. He had barely begun to nod off when he heard Patrick come back into the room.  
  
Did you finish the model? he heard his former college roommate ask.  
  
Picky made a sound. Need sleep, he repeated.  
  
Did you finish the model?  
  
Picky raised his head, hoping the other man could see the dark circles under his eyes, Yes, Ricky, I finished the model.  
  
And I finished up the plans. Dr. Andonuts is gonna be here in less than an hour, Ricky said- he'd been counting down the minutes since two weeks ago.  
  
So why don't you let me sleep, Picky asked, And make myself a little more presentable?  
  
...Good point.  
  
Picky flopped down on the desk again, instantly asleep.  
  


*  
  


Tonight, on Hidden Conspiracies'... The mystery of The Desert Golem. Five individuals tell of their encounters with this fabled desert dweller. Who made this man of stone, and why? All this and more tonight on-  
  
Ness flicked the radio off with a smirk. It was only too often he and Paula heard bits of their story being analyzed by the . If only they knew.  
  
He sighed, a bit exasperated. He'd been at this for hours and the article _still_ wasn't finished. Maybe his mind just wasn't in the right place at the moment.  
  
Suddenly he froze. In a split second, he'd leapt from his chair and flattened his back against the wall, his breath accelerated.  
  
The room was empty. Odd. That sensation he'd had was just like the one he used to have, when an enemy had been sneaking up on him from behind.  
  
Taking one more careful look around- and out the window, just to make sure- Ness finally decided that everything was hunky dory, and set back down to his work, where he'd stopped in the middle of a sentence.  
  
Something still was wrong, though. That gentle tug- just noticeable enough to be irritating- at the back of his neck still persisted.  
  
Ness leaned forward on his desk, his head in his hand, one index finger tapping his forehead. He typed a word. He erased it.  
  
God damn it, he said rather loudly, then inwardly kicked himself for swearing so loud. Jeffrey might have heard it.  
  
It was only then that Ness realized how quiet it was.  
  
he called, finally giving in and turning in his seat. You down there, buddy?  
  
  
  
Then Ness stood, heading quickly for the door, for the stairs. He descended into the living room, taking a look around.  
  
The basement door was open.  
  
Ness felt a sudden, distinct sinking feeling in his gut. If Jeffrey was down there... What was he going to tell him? What was he going to tell _Paula_?  
  
he called out, walking to the edge of the stairs,   
  
Ness' son lay sprawled out on the gray stone floor of the basement, his head flung back, his arms askew. He was unconscious.  
  
Ness exclaimed, completely forgetting about the kicking himself, and raced down the stairs, Shit, shit, shit! Jeffrey! Approaching his son, he saw that the soccer ball lay not far off. Jeffrey must have chased it down the stairs and fallen...  
  
But wait... what was that in his hand?  
  


*  
  


WHEEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!  
  
The victory siren rang out as Jeffrey knocked over the pyramid of milk bottles. The man in the red jacket- who had introduced himself as Mr. Carnie- took a stuffed animal from the booth and gave it to Jeffrey.  
  
But the boy did not seem pleased.  
  
This is _boring_, he said.  
  
Well, if you're bored with playing games, you could always go somewhere else, Mr. Carnie suggested.  
  
Where else is there to go? Jeffrey asked.  
  
Mr. Carnie laughed. Why, my boy, he said, This land belongs to you! Don't you know that? It's only as large as your very imagination. Smiling warmly, he touched the boy on the nose. And you can go wherever you like.  
  
Jeffrey asked. He didn't seem to comprehend.  
  
Mr. Carnie answered.  
  
Jeffrey took a little look around. There didn't seem to be much outside the carnival that he could see- if there _was_ anything, it was going to take a awfully long time to get to it.  
  
Then his eyes fell on the bland brown building at the end of the row of games.  
  
I wanna go in there, he said.  
  


*  
  


Jeffrey? Jeffrey? Jeffrey, wake up!  
  
Letting fall the prospect of shouting at his son, Ness reached out and grasped the Sound Stone, starting to pull. Perhaps if he had once pulled the Stone from the hand of his younger self, he could pull it from his son's.  
  
But Jeffrey had a bit of Paula's blood in him, too, and Ness found that it was not quite as easy to get the Stone loose. Soon little Jeffrey's torso was lifted halfway off the ground as Ness pulled, trying to apply as much force as he could without hurting his son.  
  
Then the Stone came loose. Lightning bolts ran through Ness' body and he stumbled back into the table, knocking the small jar of desert sand off the table. Glass shards scattered across the floor, and the sand spilled out like water.  
  
Carefully, Ness laid the Stone back on its spot on the table, breathing through his teeth and wincing at the pain. Holding his forearm, he took a look at the palm of his hand. It was burnt.  
  
But now what was he supposed to do? Ness suddenly realized what he'd just done had been useless. Taking the Stone from his younger self hadn't woken him up. Jeffrey wouldn't come back from his Magicant- or whatever his was called- until he was ready.  
  
Ness took a look at his watch. 4:53. Paula wouldn't be home for some time. He breathed a bit easier, and then turned his eyes back to Jeffrey. The boy was still out cold.  
  
Ness stood there, and watched.  
  
At 5:14, the sound of a sob broke loose from Jeffrey's lips. Soon, he was full-on weeping, and sat up, tears streaming down his face.  
  
Relieved- yet, at the same time, still worried- Ness kneeled down by his son. he said, hugging him, It's ok, Jeff. Daddy's here.  
  
I had a nightmare, Jeffrey sobbed.  
  
A nightmare? Ness asked, his eyebrows lifted a bit. What had Jeffrey seen? What was it about?  
  
Jeffrey pulled away a bit from his father, wiping his nose.  
  
...I don't remember, he said slowly.  
  
Ness smiled uneasily.  
  
he said, taking his son's hand, Let's go upstairs.  
  
And up they went- forgetting the soccer ball.


	4. In Motion

Chapter Four: In Motion

Nothing had ever affected the famous Dr. Andonuts quite like the loss of his son. Though in his seventies, the old doctor seemed as one nearing a century in age: wisps of white hair clung to his scalp, his glasses were thicker than ever, and the hiss of his hydraulic cane accented his slow walk up the path to the Fourside brownstone.

His health had deteriorated so much of late that he'd had to give up his teaching position at Winters University- though that hadn't managed to stop him from keeping up with his favorite students in their progress as scientists, innovators, and inventors.

Picky Minch and Patrick Orange were two such remarkable students. Dr. Andonuts had always sensed the two were destined for great things. A bit quirky, perhaps, but quirk with the right teaching could easily turn to genius. They had been roommates freshman year and had immediately become inseparable, always challenging the theories, working for extra credit, coming up with new concepts and ideas all the time. Picky and Patrick. Ricky and Picky. Now both working on their own doctorate degrees, the two had contacted Dr. Andonuts on an invention they were seeking to prototype.

Dr. Andonuts reached the door at last, and rang the buzzer for the first floor apartment. Thank goodness the boys didn't live any higher than that. Stairs did not agree with him.

- - -

Patrick Orange almost fell over himself when the buzzer sounded, announcing the arrival of their guest. Over six feet with skinny arms and legs, he was a young man unfortunately caught forever in the awkwardness of adolescence- complete with freckles and a consistently mussy mop of mousy hair, darkened a bit from the blonde color of his youth. "He's here!" he exclaimed in the direction of the living room, where Picky was still napping next to the model of their invention.

"I heard him," came the bleary answer. "You get the door."

Ricky quickly obeyed, rushing out to the front door of the building and opening it. "Dr. Andonuts!" He reached out to shake the inventor's hand. "Real pleasure to have you visit us, sir. Real pleasure."

"Ricky, you're already one of my favorite students, you don't have to suck up to me anymore," Dr. Andonuts said with a twinkle in his elderly eye. "It's good to be here. Now... what about this invention of yours?"

- - -

"We call it--"

"--the DM. Or Dream Machine." Ricky cut off Picky mid-sentence. He'd always been the more talkative of the two- and a far greater show-off. "It's going to revolutionize psychiatric practice in this country."

Dr. Andonuts contemplated the dome- made of silver-painted styrofoam and covered in Christmas lights-sitting on the table before him. "What does it do?" he asked simply.

"Well, it reads people's dreams." Picky answered before Ricky could say anything. "At least, that's what we hope it'll do..." He pushed some sketches across the table to Dr. Andonuts, who began to look them over thoughtfully.

"Over 75 of psychiatrists these days agree that dreams offer a window of insight into patients' subconscious," Ricky offered up excitedly, gesturing at the sketches. "And a majority of studies show that most details of a dream are lost once the patient wakes up. Not to mention some things are bound to be interpreted wrong if the patient describes them a certain way."

"We've extrapolated the technology of the machine from your own theories of mind transference, Dr. Andonuts."

That comment from Picky made Dr. Andonuts look up. That theory had been the driving force behind the invention that had allowed Jeff and his friends' minds to be transferred into robots, all those years ago. He wondered how such a theory could be applied to watching a person's dreams. "...And the patient would wear this?" he asked, flipping through the papers.

Ricky shook his head. "The doctor would. See, in order to read the patient's dreams, the doctor's consciousness literally goes inside the patient's mind."

So that was it. Dr. Andonuts nodded, slowly poring over the sketches, notes and equations.

"You may just have something here, boys," he muttered with a smile, looking up at their bright young faces.

- - -

At the next Tigers practice, Ness met his co-coach.

"Phil Spec," said the man, offering his hand with a hearty shake. He was Ness' height, with broad shoulders, longish blonde hair and friendly green eyes.

"Good to meet you at last, Phil." Ness smiled, shaking the man's hand gladly. "Too bad about the flu." He looked at Phil closer. He didn't recognize him. "You from around here?"

"Just moved in, actually." Phil adjusted the cap on his head. "Short while ago. Figured I'd get myself involved in the Little League as fast as I could. My boy just loves baseball."

"Oh yeah?" Ness smiled, covering up his slight embarrassment. He couldn't recall a Spec on the team. "Which one is your son?"

"Hey coach, sorry I'm late!" A chubby boy, his uniform in disarray, rushed past Ness toward the diamond.

"That's okay, Bobby!" Ness called after him. He turned to his co-coach with a smile. "That's everyone. Better get started, then." He jogged toward the diamond, clapping his hands for attention. "C'mon, boys! We got that first game comin' up in a few weeks! Let's get moving!"


	5. Paradise Lost

A/N: Shall we say I'll try and get this done by the time Mother 3 is translated into English? Assuming, of course, that time isn't "never" (as I'm sure we all hope and pray...)

On to Chapter 5!

Chapter 5: Paradise Lost

The last few days, Ness had had the nagging feeling he'd been forgetting something. The thought had always been brushed aside, though. His column, and Tigers practice, and starting to make plans for Jeffrey's birthday, had taken precedence over everything else.

But now Paula was standing in front of him, holding the soccer ball. "I found this downstairs," she said, in that voice that suggested she was just on the edge of very angry.

Ness was, for the briefest of moments, proud of his ability to play it cool. "Did you?" he asked nonchalantly, and went back to his notes.

"How did it end up down there?"

Shit. Why could a woman never just come out and _say_ they knew something was up? Especially when they were psychic. "It must've rolled down there while he was playing."

Paula placed the soccer ball on the table. It landed with a muffled _thud_, and Ness dared to look up at his wife again. She had that don't-lie-to-me look on her face, her lips pressed together and her eyebrows slanted just slightly downwards. Somehow Ness figured 'you're so cute when you're angry' wasn't going to cut it.

After a few seconds' silence, Paula sighed. "Don't make me do this."

Ness looked back down at his notes, readying himself. "No one makes you."

She leaned forward on the table. "Please just _tell_ me what happened."

"You already know," he snapped before he could think better of it, and suddenly he doubled over, feeling as though he'd just woken up from a bad night out on the town. He could feel her in there, rifling through the contents of his memory, and by the time he tried to tell her it was too late. The nausea left him, and he was left looking up at his wife's face, pale as a ghost.

By the time she'd turned and stormed out the door, he couldn't remember whether he'd tried to call her name, or not.

-

"Oh-ho-ho-ho," Phil laughed knowingly, "Trouble in paradise. Boy do I know about that."

"It's not like I didn't do anything to deserve it." Ness sighed, watching the boys pack up their stuff and squabble as they waited for their parents to pick them up. One hand felt his cheek, rough and stubbly--he'd been so afraid to spend time around Paula that morning he'd forgotten to shave before he left.

"Ah, she'll get over it," Phil grinned, waving a hand as if Ness' marital dispute was a pesky fly. "They always do, right?"

"Sure," Ness answered absentmindedly. The topic wasn't pursued any further, though, as Jeffrey came shambling over in that moment. Ness grinned, but it was Phil who knelt down to the boy's height and gave him a pat on the shoulder:

"Hey, Jeffy! Great job out there today. Real good!"

"Thanks, Mr. Spec."

"Gonna be a star shortstop one day." Ness smiled down at his kid, feeling the sort of pride that comes from a parent watching his kid get praised by someone else.

"Oh, hey, Ness." Phil stood up, addressing the other man. "Could you pick me up next practice? Wife needs the car for work."

"Yeah, no problem," Ness nodded. Meanwhile, the last of the boys were filing into cars with their mothers and fathers. "Maybe we could go for a coupla beers afterward?"

"Sure. Anytime, man." Phil turned to go, then turned back. "Well, what about tonight?"

Ness felt a sting as he remembered what was waiting for him at home. "No, I gotta--I probably should--"

Phil sucked air through his teeth. "Right. That. Sorry. Well, have a good night, then."

"See ya next time. C'mon, Jeff."

Sure enough, she was waiting for him in the kitchen when and Jeffrey arrived, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed. Jeffrey, oblivious to the sparks flying between his parents, asked whether he could play in the backyard for a while. Ness looked to Paula, who nodded, and Jeff was shooed outside, leaving behind a tense silence.

Finally, Paula broke it: "So let's talk."

"Let's talk," Ness agreed, dropping his bag and going to sit down at the table. He felt like a schoolboy about to get paddled.

There was an inordinately long silence.

"You found him down there--"

"--with the Sound Stone in his hand, yes." Better to finish the sentence before she did. Didn't want her thinking he was still unwilling to admit anything.

"And he said he had--"

"--a nightmare. That he didn't remember."

Paula nodded very slowly, not looking at Ness. "He didn't ask you about any of the stuff down there?"

"He hasn't, no." Ness' hands played with each other, fingers criss-crossing. "...I think he's a little scared."

"Well, with good reason!" Paula's voice raised a little now, she turned to look at him. "God knows what he saw if he put that thing to his forehead! No one's _supposed_ to use it except for you!"

Ness played the 'so-what' card. "He seems--fine."

"Seems! He could be too scared to bring it up. This sort of thing can have lasting repercussions. Trauma, even!" Paula exhaled sharply. "What would you have said if he did ask?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you must've thought about it."

"We have to tell him someday!" But that wasn't the point, they were getting off-track. "Paula, you--you _saw_ it in here!" he exclaimed, tapping at his temple, "You _had _to have seen... me," he faltered, not quite willing to admit he'd been scared, but knowing she knew. "I didn't cause this," he asserted. "No one did. It was an _accident._"

Paula's jaw was stiff. "And you didn't tell me."

Well, she had him there. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

That bugged Ness even more. She knew, of course. She _always_ knew. Sometimes with Paula, he felt he was a few dozen steps behind.

"Well..." Paula looked intently at her feet for some moments. "I think we should have a talk with him, don't you? Nothing about what's down there, but... about what he might have experienced."

Ness looked down at the table, still wounded. "You're the shrink, not me."

"I'd rather have you there."

He looked up again and studied her. Even without the ability to read minds, he had the experience of knowing Paula for twenty years. There was something behind her eyes--a shrinking back. A fear.

His indignance melted. "What are you always so scared of?" he asked.

Paula shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know," she said. When all was said and done, she seemed most frightened of that.


	6. The Persistence of Memory

Chapter 6: The Persistence of Memory

Jeffrey stood with the focus of a brain surgeon, adjusting his foot back and forth to keep to soccer ball balanced on his toe. Then, with a flick, he sent it into the air, and jumped to kick it against the back fence of the yard.

"_Rauuuuuugh!_:" He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth, simulating a crowd's cheer. "_Goooooaaaaal!_" He ran in a circle, performing a little victory celebration. "Yeah," he said to an imaginary rival as he went to retrieve the ball, and started bouncing it from knee to knee. "This is _my _turf."

'_Why, my boy--this land belongs to you!'_

His knee came up a little too hard and knocked the ball several feet away.

It took Jeffrey a long moment to even realize something felt weird. Where had he heard those words before? In a movie? Maybe. Or in a dream. Like one of those dreams he could still remember when his eyes were closed. The voice he remembered saying those words was a nice one, friendly and jolly.

Still, it felt creepy that he couldn't remember where he knew it from. He didn't know why.

Ness slid aside the glass door that led to the backyard and studied his son, wanting to smile, almost succeeding for a moment. But the reminder of what had just occurred in the kitchen wiped it off of his face. "Hey buddy!" he called out.

Jeffrey turned and saw his dad, and looked startled for a second. Then, with all the natural exuberance of his age, went running after his ball to retrieve it. "Can I just stay out here for five more minutes, please?"

"You can come back out here later. Your mom wants to talk to you." Ness could almost feel Paula rolling her eyes at his back. 'Your mom,' not 'we.' Well, he hadn't _meant_ it that way. Jeffrey, sulking but obedient, jogged up to the doors and inside the house. Ness managed a smile and ruffled his son's hair as he passed.

Paula was in the kitchen, appearing busy. She'd started making herself a cup of coffee while Ness had been calling Jeffrey. The boiling water was dripping merrily through the filter. Jeffrey bounced the ball on the kitchen floor, still enthused from his outdoor activities.

"Could you sit down for a minute, Jeffrey?" Paula made a good enough show of sounding calm about it, but Ness was able to note the hint of tension it carried. She wanted to get through with this as much as he did. "This'll just take a minute, okay? Mom and Dad just wanna talk to you."

Jeffrey, for his part, took a seat at the table with a curious expression. He knew what his mom did for a living: when people felt sick in their heads, she looked inside and told them how to get better. When his dad had first described it like that, he'd pictured Mom bent over some patient's open skull, poking at their brains. But no, Dad had said laughing, it wasn't quite the same. She seemed so serious now, the way she was when there was a problem. Jeffrey wondered if she was going to look inside his head.

"We just wanted to know whether you've been feeling alright lately." Mom said it in a very soothing way. She was good at that, and it made Jeffrey want to be honest. So he thought real hard. Sure, he'd been having a few weird moments, but other than that everything was okay. He felt that added up to 'alright.' He nodded.

"Cause you know you can talk to us about anything." Dad put an arm around his shoulders and gave a small squeeze.

"I'm fine," Jeffrey shrugged. He felt fine. He was fine.

Mom looked down at the table and took a breath. She was thinking about something.

"You went down into the basement a while ago, right?"

Jeffrey felt his eyes grow wide. He'd done something wrong, hadn't he? "I'm sorry I touched your stuff," he quickly apologized.

"That's alright," Mom assured in that same soothing voice. "You should just know that that is Mom and Dad's private place down there. You should be very careful about it."

Jeff nodded, but wondered all the same. It had happened such a long time ago, why was he being asked about it now? "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Apology accepted," Mom smiled. Then she changed the subject so quickly it made Jeffrey even more confused. "Have you had any dreams lately?"

_the door of the building was made out of old dented metal, it was hard to open and made a jangling sound when he finally pushed it loose_

Jeffrey looked down at the table, his forehead all wrinkled up in thought. Where had all this come from?

'_It's only as large as your very imagination!'_

"Maybe..." he mumbled, trying to put all the pieces together. But it was like that 1000-piece puzzle he and Dad had tried to do after last Christmas. Too difficult.

Mom tilted her head to one side. "What happens in it?"

No. It was no good. "I don't remember," Jeffrey confessed.

Mom didn't seem to like that answer, but all the same she said that it was okay and that he could go back outside and play now, but be sure to come in before sundown. And she kissed him on the forehead and sent him on his way.

Paula watched her son go, and turned to Ness with a look of weariness. "I don't want to look through his memories."

Ness watched after Jeffrey as well. He wanted to believe his son really was fine, but he'd seen the faraway look he'd gotten when Paula had asked about dreams. "You might have to," he said.

- - -

The prototype was complete, the preliminary tests run and deemed a-okay. A volunteer had been procured for a human test, and had been sleeping on the couch at Picky and Ricky's place for some time. Outside, it was well past dark.

Picky checked the volunteer's eyes and saw that he'd entered a state of REM. He smirked at Ricky as he began prepping the Dream Machine. "This is how most comic book villains get created, you know," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, luckily we don't live in the Marvel Universe," Ricky smirked, getting ready to flip the final switch on the helmet strapped to his head. "Frequencies go?"

"Go," Picky confirmed. Ricky closed his eyes, and flipped the switch.

They sat in silence for several seconds.

"Anything?" Picky asked hopefully, watching the frequency needle jump and twitch. If they were lucky, it was picking up on their volunteer's active brain-waves and transmitting them to Ricky.

"Nothing." Ricky shook his head, sounding supremely disappointed. "Goddamn i--wait. Wait, I'm getting something."

"Yeah?" Picky beamed as he looked over his shoulder at Ricky. It was working, it was really working! He turned to look back at the control box, and his smile dropped. The frequency needle was hovering off the charts. "What... Aw, shit. Frequency monitor's on the blink. Let's reboot..." He shut off the power, and the hum of the DM dropped in pitch, then stopped. Picky sighed. Not the end of the world, it was just a glitch. "Okay. Ready for another go?" When there was no answer, Picky raised the volume of his voice just a little. "Ready to go again?"

Still nothing. Picky turned around.

Patrick Orange was slumped over in his chair, as if he'd entered into the deeper stages of the DM's functions. But the machine was off. Picky took him by the shoulder and shook him. "Ricky. Ricky? Ricky!"

That last one was a little loud. The volunteer on the couch stirred a little, snorted, and raised his head. "Did it work?" he asked. When Picky looked at him, horrified, he shrunk back a little. "What?"

"You're awake..." Picky noted, and turned back to Ricky, who was still slumped over, the heft of the DM's helmet weighing his head down. "...but he isn't. Oh my god. RICK!"


	7. Helpless

Chapter 7: Helpless

"He's in a coma. I put my best friend in a coma."

Dr. Andonuts regarded his former student through sympathetic eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

Picky ceased his pacing and sank into the brown, plastic hospital chair, shaking his head. "We should've run more diagnostics before testing on a human subject. And I let him talk me into thinking we were ready. I should've been more cautious."

The old doctor sighed, seeming to sag further into the seat he occupied. "Nothing to do about it now. You shouldn't worry yourself. Patrick's a strong boy; he'll pull through."

Picky's head-shaking increased in magnitude. "It might not even be a normal coma. It's not like his conscious mind has stopped functioning, it could be just... gone!" He made a wild gesture with one hand to illustrate the point. "Out floating around somewhere..." But like it or not, the doctor was right about at least one thing: there was nothing to do about it now. Feeling completely helpless, Picky slumped backwards, listening to the far-off _beep_ that indicated his friend was still alive.

Dr. Andonuts looked at Picky sidelong. "I can stay for a while yet," he concluded, sitting up just a bit straighter.

Picky's mouth did something that wanted to be a smile, but only succeeded in pursing his lips together tightly. "Thanks."

- - -

It was the day before Jeffrey's birthday, and Ness suddenly remembered he'd forgotten all about his son's request for a puppy. _Shit_, he thought, paused in the kitchen halfway to the fridge, where the thought had struck him. Somehow all the work and the fuss about the basement and even Jeffrey's birthday itself had made him forget. The only immediate solace he could conjure up was that Paula must have somehow forgotten too, or she would have reminded him.

Maybe Jeff had forgotten all about wanting a puppy, anyway, or else _he_ would have said something. But Ness realized as he began moving again and opened up the fridge that that was a load of crap. A young boy's desire for a dog was an essential, like the need for comic books and baseball and tree-houses. There was no getting rid of it. Even if things were too busy now for the boy to think about it, come the big day he'd remember. The absence of the gift especially would make him remember, and it would make him miserable. Ness sighed as he took the milk carton from the fridge, approached the counter to retrieve a clean glass.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Ness did his best to sound cheerful, or at least nonchalant. Something about phone calls always made him feel like things should be starting again.

"Is this Ness?"

"Y-yes," Ness half-stammered, trying to place the voice on the other line. "Who's calling?"

"Ness! This is Dr. Andonuts."

Ness made bug-eyes at the floor. "Doctor! Long time no see. How's it going with you?"

"Oh, fine." There was a clipped tone in that, the universal signal that things were not, in fact, going fine, but the person in question didn't feel like discussing it right now. "I just wanted to call to make sure you knew I'd be making an appearance at your son's birthday party."

"Oh! Yeah?" Had Paula invited him? Paula must have invited him.

"Wouldn't miss it." There was a pause. Ness waited for a follow-up question, or perhaps a hurried retreat from the conversation. Neither came.

"So what have you been up to?" he asked, balancing the phone's receiver between his ear and shoulder as he tried to retrieve a glass from the dish rack. "Any wacky new inventions lately?"

"Oh, no, no." The doctor's voice now had a touch of wistfulness in it. "I'm enjoying the wide open plains of retirement still. I do still... Well, I visit old students time to time, you know, help them with projects."

"Right." All this was old news. Ness poured the milk.

"Anyway, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond to the invitation, it's just other things have been on my mind." There was a brief silence, the kind where someone decides whether to say something or not. "I've been at the hospital."

"_What?_" Ness nearly choked on his milk. "It's not serious, is it?"

"What? Oh, no. It's not me." Dr. Andonuts sounded quite distracted, but then, Ness figured he could be forgiven that given his age. "It's an old student of mine, from around your area I think, Picky Minch--"

"_Picky's_ in the hospital?"

"No! No. It's his friend, another student of mine... You might know him, or Paula might, I think he was from Threed originally, or one of those towns. They were working on a project together, things went south during a test run."

Ness was genuinely curious now. "Who is he?"

"Patrick Orange."

Ness swallowed his milk that time, but had to do it slowly because he was thinking. "The Orange Kid?" he asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yes, his name is Orange."

"Small world," Ness mumbled into his milk. He couldn't help remembering how useless the Orange Kid's 'projects' had been in the past. He was glad it wasn't Picky who'd ended up in the hospital.

"Anyhow, that's why I'm a little... But nevermind, I'll be sure to be a bit livelier at your son's birthday party. How are you and Paula?"

"We're fine." Ness could detect that note in his own voice now. "We're... y'know. Enjoying the thrills of parenthood."

"Hmm." The sound was low and ponderous. "You ought to keep enjoying it, then. As much as you can."

"Yes sir," Ness nodded, suddenly very somber. Before the moment could stretch too long, however, he cleared his throat. "Um. So we'll see you tomorrow? 4 o' clock?"

"With bells on," Dr. Andonuts replied, a shade of his old eccentric self now. Ness smiled a little, bid the doctor goodbye, and hung up the phone.

- - -

It was dark. An absolute darkness, like being under a thick blanket on a starless night, surrounded by silence. It was like the moment between dreaming and awake. It was like not existing. Then his head hurt, and there was light casting a red glow through his closed eyelids.

Patrick Orange found himself lying horizontal on what felt like a concrete floor, cold and rough to the skin that was exposed to it. He was dizzy, and the floor seemed to tilt and spin; for a second he thought he was not horizontal but vertical, and fully expected to start falling any moment. Then he thought he was about to throw up, until he remembered the last thing that had happened to him. The Dream Machine on his head, humming away, and images had started fuzzing into his brain, pulling him into a hypnotic state. Their invention had worked. He was inside the volunteer's head!

Might've done something about the aftereffects, though. They'd have to work on that for the next model.

Ricky ventured opening his eyes. He was indeed lying on what appeared to be concrete, in a room with no visible furniture. The only light came from a tiny square window, situated close to the low ceiling. Shakily, he got to his knees, then to his feet, testing out the physics of this dream-world. Everything certainly felt real enough. He hopped. There appeared to be gravity. He took a look around the room: it seemed to be a single small building, with no inner features except for a large square hole in the center, which descended into darkness. There was also a door to the outside. Wondering what was out there, Ricky approached the window.

Outside was the brightness of midday, a sharp contrast to the darkness inside the building. There was a ferris wheel, merrily spinning on the horizon, and a row of carnival games on a field of green. Walking up and down the row was a jolly-looking man with a bundle of balloons.

Ricky squinted at the man. If this was the volunteer's dream, he should have been appearing in it somewhere. And that didn't look like him. Still, sometimes people had dreams where they entered the body of another, so it wasn't impossible. And there didn't seem to be anyone else around. He started for the door of his little room, intent on approaching the balloon man.

The door, however, proved difficult to open. After several attempts at the normal methods, Patrick jiggled at the doorknob, pulling and pushing, trying every combination of solutions he could think of. After a desperate ramming at the door with his shoulder failed to work--and rather painfully, at that--he was more or less out of options, and so stopped for a moment... and became aware of a new sound in the space.

It was recognizable first only as a rhythmic tapping, then a few moments later as the unmistakable echo of approaching footsteps. Patrick looked around, confounded at the source of the sound, until his eyes rested on the square hole in the floor. From the meager light entering through the tiny window, he could now see that from the opening extended a set of stairs.

And someone was coming up.


End file.
